Voices from Calvary
When men are dying, if their minds are clear, they frequently put into their last sayings the purpose and inspiration of their lives. The last words of our Lord upon the cross are, therefore, intensely interesting. They give us in a nutshell His whole life-purpose. He wras the Son of Man, and in a very peculiar sense we died with Him on the cross. His groans were the groans of the race; His words were the cries of humanity to God. A judge in a court of New York gave a verdict in a very important civil suit, and some one who counted the words said that each word in the verdict was worth just a million dollars; and if you will count the words uttered by the Lord Jesus on the cross, you will find that each one of them holds a fortune for every one who will receive it.
Let us stand by the cross and listen to the voices that come from it.
I. We hear, first of all, the Voice of Prayer.
“Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” Christ on the cross is our prayer for forgiveness.
“Five bleeding wounds he bears,
Received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers
And strongly plead for me;
Forgive him, oh, forgive, they cry,
Noi let the ransomed sinner die.”
And here we may learn how to forgive. Have you any temptation to harbor malice against those who have injured you? Whenever somebody treats you a little worse than they treated Jesus, then you can say, “I shall never forgive.” Jesus looked at the best side of even his murderers. “They know not what they do,” He sought excuse for them. It is un-Christ-like to look at the bad side of those who have injured us. If you have an enemy on earth, look at the best side of him. If you have been slandered, try to find some reason for it; persecuted, try to give some excuse for it; and it will not be long before you will be praying “for those who despitefully use you.”
II. We hear, again, the Voice of Proimise.
“To-day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise.” It is only through Christ on the cross that anybody can enter Paradise. Faith in His merit brings peace, comfort, joy. To reject the crucified Christ is to shut yourself out of Paradise here and hereafter. Christ as a teacher unlocks the treasures of wisdom; Christ as a man unlocks the treasures of perfection; Christ on the cross unlocks the treasures of grace and glory. It is only the pierced hands that open heaven to sinners. One Sunday morning there appeared before St. Martin, while he was in prayer, a most radiant form. The form, with a crown of gold upon his head sparkling with diamonds, said: “I am Christ; fall down and worship me.” St. Martin looked into the face: it was radiant; he looked at the robe: it was gorgeous; but when he looked at the hands, he saw no. marks of the nails, and he said:
M Avaunt, thou devil; though as an angel of light thou hast come, I will not worship thee.” Watch for that modern strategy of the devil which brings before men the radiant form of Christ without any print of the nails, that exalts the life of Christ at the expense of His death, and thus leaves out the keystone in the arch of Salvation. Without it the arch cannot stand much of a strain. An engineer took a contract for the building of a bridge in a mountain district, and spent about forty thousand dollars upon it. He had finished one of the arches all except the keystone, and when the hour came for the men to quit work, he said to them: “I should like to have you work four or five hours beyond time to-night, for if I should leave that arch as it is, and the flood should come, all our work wall be swept away.” But the men said the flood would not come, and, besides, they were not going to work over time. But the flood did come before morning and swept that arch away. It was all right except the keystone, and, lacking the keystone, it lacked everything. Lacking one thing is a great lack when that one thing is life itself. Let no evil spirit, my friend, cajole you into believing that you can bridge the river of judgment and enter Paradise without the keystone of the sacrifice of Christ.
III. Listen again, and you will hear a
Voice Mellow and Sweet as an Angel’s
Harp. It is the Voice of Natural
Affection.
“Woman, behold thy son!” “Behold thy mother!” Christ on the cross has made the Christian home and sanctified the relation of husband and wife, parent and child, brother and sister. At the request of Jesus, John took Mary to his home. Indeed, Christ on the cross has made every destitute woman “My mother,” and every destitute man “My brother,” and every destitute boy “My child.” The ancient place, where the family abode, was cheerless and cold. The father was a tyrant, the mother a slave, the children chattels. Canon Farrar has shown that in all classic poetry there is no reference to the pleasures of childhood, and for the very good reason that in pagan lands the child had little pleasure. Mother and home, which we now associate with heaven, were born of God through the pangs of Christ on the cross. Better still, these sweet relations of the Christian home have been widened until they include the whole family of God. “Whosoever shall do the will of My Father in heaven, the same is My brother, sister, and mother.”
During the Civil War a mother heard that her son was sick in a hospital, and she hastened to where he was. But the surgeon said he was too sick to stand the excitement of her visit. She entreated him, however, to let her go and sit by his side, promising not to speak a word. “Well,” said the surgeon, “if you will not speak a word, you may go.” So she went in and sat by the side of the wounded sleeping boy; but she could not resist the temptation to rub his brow softly.. As soon as her hand touched him, he said, “Mother;” he knew the touch. What was it that made him know that touch? It was something that came from Christ on the cross, which had so sanctified the relation of mother. and son as to make him carry in mind the memory of her loving touch. Expand this thought till it includes the whole family of God, and you have a slight conception of the unifying and sanctifying power of the dying Christ. It is unselfish ministry glorified.
IV. The Voice of the Soul’s Need.
“My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” It is through Jesus Christ on the cross that the voice of the soul in need of God can find utterance. Nothing can satisfy the soul but God. Wealth, position, gratified ambition, will not do it. The infinite God meets our infinite need; through Christ on the cross the need is made known and supplied. Jesus asked a dangerous question: “Why?” But He clung to the Father in love and faithfulness, while He asked it. Christ on the cross is an interrogation point and a period. It appeals to God for a reason for the lonely sufferings of humanity, and is itself an answer to the question. Christ suffers thus that others may not suffer for their sins, and that He may put Himself in loving touch with all who suffer from any cause. Bring all your whys to God through the Crucified, while you cling to Him in love, and He will answer them sooner or later. But I hasten to the next voice —
V. The Voice of Bodily Want.
“I thirst.” What! is Christ on the cross a prayer to God for the satisfaction of my physical wants? He is; and that means a great deal to some, whose life is a battle for bread — who know what it is to suffer hunger. It is a great comfort to know that Christ on the cross is the cry of humanity to God for the supply of bodily need. The body is as dear to Him as the soul,*
VI. And now, Clear as a Clarion, rings out the Voice of Victory.
“It is finished.” “Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death;” the suffering of Jesus, when it is finished, brings forth life and victory. Here is our starting-point. We begin at Calvary with victory. He died in our stead, and we shout by faith, “It is finished.” Salvation complete is offered to us. And now listen to the definition of the Christian’s death as it comes to us from the cross: “Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” The darkened scene, symbol of the darkened soul;
-do
the cries of anguish, forsaken of God — that is
death. But the Christian has not to die.
Christ died for him. He simply commends
his spirit to God. To him
“There is no death: what seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but the suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call death.”
The death of Jesus is truly the death of death. Ours is a “departure,” and the word means loosing anchor that the ship may sail out of a landlocked harbor into a broader sea.